


At Large

by thornsilver



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, creepy vampire violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-31 23:15:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12143229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thornsilver/pseuds/thornsilver
Summary: Sometimes Drusilla needs help to See.





	At Large

**Author's Note:**

> This is for stakebait, who wanted something BDSMy in Buffyverse. Well there is sadism. In Buffyverse.

For Drusilla, there is always blood. Of course there is also lace, and dolls, and Spike... and, often, there is a the subtle stench of decay. But there is *always* blood.

There is blood now.

Drusilla straddles the stomach of the man, bound spread-eagled in the circle of ritual. She have not eaten, and the flesh of his nude body is fever-hot under her naked thighs. In this position, she can almost feel the roughness of the cement-covered floor.

She kisses his lips, her true face on, drawing the first blood and awakening the magics, and the power sings around her, through her. She moves down his body then, biting kisses painting the pale flesh with rivulets of red, and the man writhes under her, making the ribbons of blood twist and twist on their own course, a dance, a braiding, a writing. And the power keeps rising.

As Drusilla mouthes his sex, it gets painted red too, but the magic has them now, the feelings too intense to be named pleasure or pain, and the man remains hard. She smiles to herself.

There are splotches of red where her body have touched his, and she merely rides the currents of power as she takes his hardness into the juncture of her thighs. Even to her womb he tastes sweet.

As Drusilla moves on him, she feels the magic cresting. When she leans over and rips his throat out, there is a brief shower of red, and the man spills his hot seed into her, releasing the visions.

She rides him through the death throws, but sees nothing of the room, caught in the infinite possibilities revealed to her inner eye, buoyed by her own orgasm.

When she is done, she curls around the cooling body with a smile on her face, and whispers quietly "Grandmama", before drifting into sleep. The blood around her smells like new beginnings.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the majority of this story on the train, when returning from work. Good thing my handwriting is illegible. :) (Yes, I do mean "illegible".)


End file.
